I’m addicted to Him. If I could mainline him I would. We were sitting in Brooklyn @ Col’Cacchio which has paper table coverings** so I started writing to him. The handwritten, public note ended with me saying that I wanted to swim in his blood…that gave me pause. But only a brief pause. Angie might have had a point with the whole vial of blood thing.

MM wanted to know why I was so quiet about Him and I really had to think about it. The intensity of this tangled new love is melting my stone soul and I am left exposed and pink skinned. Wouldn’t you protect something so valuable with the best of you? I want to wrap my words around this tiny shiny globe, shield it from the world, softly softly cup it in my hands and show only those who would not harm it, who would delight as I do, in the flutters of joy. I shout my love from the mountains*** and drag poor Him to any and every gathering of my heartfriends. Oh please, y’all know by now that my social butterfly would not retreat for mere love.

However, I know that new love is like a snakebite. If you are a snake the bite is on the feather side of kinky but if you are anyone else you’ll soon start vomiting and wishing for death so I will stop prattling on about it.

CC is leaving in less than a week. I have no idea how I am going to handle this town without him. It helps that I can wrap infatuation around me like a assassin’s cowl but at some point I will have to face that my person is leaving….just writing this has me bawling so Saturday’s party at the Hungarian Bar should be a snot fest. Luckily I have long since developed a taste for salty-bitter-tear-flavoured syrupy vodka. Anyway.

I have two brothers, Little Brother the rock star you’ve read about, and now I introduce you to Beautiful Brother. He is, well, incredibly pretty. He just came back from the UK where he found God and purpose. He has been a chef in the SA Navy, a chef on a few game farms, a hair dresser and most recently a handy man. No. He is not gay nor will he be an Indian next. He’s decided to be an electrician.

Please understand that he is pretty enough to make most women walk into solid things so he will either do really, really well as suburban housewives will have quite a bit of explaining to do to husbands about the sudden jump in household maintenance bills or he will never be hired because we are used to Butt Crack Sparky fixing the lights. I’m glad he is back though :)

1. Word of the day: pertinacity (The Sage: 1. persistent determination)

2. Insight of the day: The first summer shower washes the world awake.

3. State of the pool:  gritty but ice cold india ink

4. Joys of the day: 1. Sitting next to an open window showing me the washed world, 2. Knowing that I get to see Him every day for the next 4 whole days, 3. Drinks with Tall Stories folk, CC and Him tomorrow where we’ll dissect (pun totally intended) District 9

5. Awesomest lines: No lines. I’ve been reading fantasy. Vast Touched.

6. Scripture lines: Romans 5 (New International Version)

⁶You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

*It is a very obscure reference but I love the way he says this phrase when The Bride pretends to be anything but a revenge queen who speaks fluent bubblegum Los Angeles accented Japanese.

**AWESOME idea. Excellent pizza too.

***Facebook…mountains…same thing really /grin

©2010 Feylian's World. All Rights Reserved.

Folk in attendance: CC, Delicious One, Rangineer, O the Metal Alchemist, Lovely Lila (MM‘s sister), Hot Divorce Lawyer & friend and a new edition: Dandylion (Ender‘s most recent ex) und friend.

I’ve been seeing quite a bit of Delicious One…hmmm. Perhaps if when he touched me I did not feel like an ignited trail of gunpowder, life would be somewhat easier, if far more boring.

I get to have cocktails with Delightful A and Beautiful Pagan Redhead from Tall Stories tomorrow /bounce. Intelligent, well read conversation with scavenged-from-a-royal-crypt-bone-and-some-dessicated-flesh-still-on-it-dry-humour ftw.

1. Word of the day:  repudiate (TheSage: 1. refuse to acknowledge, ratify or recognise as valid, 2. cast off, 3. reject as untrue, unfounded, or unjust, 4. refuse to recognise or pay)

2. Insight of the day: When you love what you do, getting up is a joy beyond all measure.

3. State of the pool: Dom Pérignon

4. Random thought: A new blogger that shows promise: Pierre

5. Awesomest lines: I’m running out of these. Play Dead by Elsa Volschenk

Purge me of all known bliss
so I can exist without you

6. Scripture lines: Psalm 119:64 (New International Version)

⁶⁴ The earth is filled with your love, O LORD;
teach me your decrees.

*:) Rocking ain’t it.

©2010 Feylian's World. All Rights Reserved.

Ok, this perhaps needs a bit of explaining :). The Lovely Redheaded Photographer and I attempted “dating”. He is one kickass guy and hopefully still part of the elitist friend group I have going.  I told him a while ago he deserves the genuine “kicked in the stomach but in a good way, cellphone bill of hundreds of (currency) kind of love” and I can’t give him that. I dunno. I genuinely loved Perfect Guy and now I am starting to wonder if it didn’t break me.

Speaking of True Love: Russian Mafia Guy might just have found his. /grin. I am EMMA**, hear me needlepoint! I cannot say much about it but I am ridiculously happy for them both. Amazonian Godmother has a huge heart and, although it will take work, I know it could be IT. I’m such a soppy freak…I’m getting all girly about not-my-love.

Went to Attrition at Aandklas this weekend. I’ve never been so grateful for my predilection for wearing black and Rapunzel hair. Met some really cool people, including guys from a band whose name I can’t remember.*** Oh and CC spoke to TBRH’s complete sweetheart of a sister and even bought her dinner…ah true love. *watches Kriffefer cringe while cackling like only a Nanny Ogg wannabe can*

1. Word of the day: apperceptive

2. Insight of the day: Goths look like anime characters come to life (and no not the cosplay stuff). I met Thelma from Solsken Clothing who create those outfits. Wow.

3. State of the pool: e-alphabet soup.

4. Random thought: As much as I love my job, knowing that I have about 433 (and mounting) unread, work related blogs to catch up on is a tad daunting.

5. Awesomest lines: From The Assault by Harry Mulisch (one of the books to which Delightful A of Tall Stories introduced me)

“Weirdly silent, their small hands holding on to tree bark, the creatures stared at him out of a past as deep and immovable as themselves. Though some of them, their bodies S-shaped, seemed to be grinning broadly, their eyes spoke a different language, of gravity so immovable and undisturbed as to be almost unbearable.”

6. Scripture lines: Philippians 4:4 (New American Standard Bible)

⁴Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!

* I do so love dramatic declarative openings. All I need now is some smelling salts and a rib snappingly tight corset.

**Jane Austen folks. Granted using Emma as an example of successful matchmaking is perhaps not the ideal but meh. It sounds better than Jenta the Matchmaker and I love, love, love Austen.

***In my defense: the white wine I was drinking was redolent of  bananas so fermented it wilted the plastic cups in which it was served.

©2010 Feylian's World. All Rights Reserved.

Last night was indeed epic, even if it was not nearly what I had envisioned it to be. El was, as always, freaking legendary. It is a miracle that the woman can move without stepping over the supine supplicators for her affection. And, dear gods, those legs. If ever you are short of cash and in need of a drink, dress her in 4inch fm-boots and take her to a “club”*. Oh and I managed to freak out a dominee. It’s been awhile /grin. Met some lovely people, I guess those “clubs” have their pro’s. (muahahaha…no I kill me, really)

This morning I woke up to rain. Which turned into honest to goodness Scotland sleet. Global warming ftw! Hid away in Tall Stories. Both Beautiful Pagan Redhead*** and Delightful A are on my top 6 dinner party guests. Delightful A opened Milan Kundera to me and 4 other awesome books which I cannot wait to read. If you have time and are in the area, go there. Seriously. It is a joy comparable to dark chocolate mousse or listening to a CC mixed tape**. Met The Blonde Engineer for a much belated bday lunch and he too only after a few minutes, and some enthused nagging, bought 2 books. On soup. In time he might upgrade to non-happiness-of-the-mouth reading. Well, one can hope.

CC, The Lovely Redheaded Photographer and I made a paprika goulash and are swimming in music which melts bones and movies…oh hooking up soundsluts rocks. I love my life. I really do.

1. Word of the day: salacious

2. Insight of the day: I am a rocker. Even trying to gyrate to crap rythms last scoffed at when 13 is several levels of not ok.

3. State of the pool: A beautifully aged claret.

4. Random thought: It rained slush puppy today.

5. Awesomest lines: Milan Kundera – Slowness. There is far too much here so let’s start with page 4 -

Speed is the form of ecstasy the technical revolution bestowed on man. As opposed to a motorcyclist, the runner is always present in his body, forever required to think about his blisters, his exhaustion; when he runs he feels his weight, his age, more concious than ever of himself and of his time of life. This all changes when man delegates the faculty of speed to a machine: from then on, his own body is outside the process, and he gives over to a speed that is non-corporeal, non-material, pure speed, speed itself, ecstacy speed. 

*I rarely use inverted commas and with good reason. But in this case it is warranted. Why on earth people have a desire to spend time in a place where the patented once-over-and-then-dismissed/adored-look is so prevalent that eyes water at the small African country crippling energy expediture is beyond me. /shudder. No. Just no. If I want my posterior manhandled I’d rather commit an act of freedom fighting and have someone be my female canine companion.

** Yes. I am that old.

***For some reason I am inundated with gorgeous carrot-tops. I guess I need to see better..oh it was lame but I enjoyed it :)

©2010 Feylian's World. All Rights Reserved.

Reading him and those guys is like swimming in syrupy long island iced tea and every somatic cell takes greedy, hiccuping gulps.

I told you I was reading My mistresses’s sparrow is dead. This is one of those books you will be proud to own and will reread on rainy days with a mug of liberally fortified tea. Every story sticks to you like post-it notes with glue made of boiled first love. Go to Tall Stories in Irene Village Mall and get it. If you aren’t in the area, buy it online. I know I sound very bossy but these stories and authors will make of you a better/smarter/twistier human being.

Reading the good stuff is like watching ideas motion capture in your head. First your mind is raked, the the seed planted, then the shoot, the little bud thickening becoming a tree and then watching the blooms and the finally the fruit. All condensed in a few minutes or hours. Or days…*pointedly looks at the stack of dusty books vs sparkling HDD and dvd series I know you have within reach*

Maybe this is why I love short stories and essays as much as I do. I love the tangibility of a world created in a novel and knowing characters as well as you would heart-friends but a short story is like a Godiva* truffle. And a good anthology, an entire tiny box of Auditor** killing joy.

Short stories are decadent, almost wasteful. An author’s best idea condensed into world altering sentences. You get to have 25 summer romances or 20 paradigm shifts. No 3 years down the line mundanity and threat of teeth grinding, rage swallowing relationship counselling because the romance wasn’t so much lost/imagined as consumed by previously ignored picketfence-mindedness.

An excellent short story reminds you how bitter and beautiful this world is. And how utterly, yawpingly alive we are.

Whenever I don’t write I feel as if I am nothing but swirling, inconsequential mist. But when I write, for that little while, I am real. I exist. So if you ever wonder why I am clumsy and a /bounce fool around you it is because my words are not captured and that somehow makes it not count. It’s as if I have to be more, that being bold requires more effort/energy just to have it create an impression on the world around me. That excessive actions will hopefully linger even for a little while in the time and space it was made.

I am the best of me when I am online. When I am defined and surprised by what I write and shaped but what I read. There are no pillars or unseen doorframes into which to walk. There is no wall vibrating, ear grating brash laughter. There is no too much flesh and unwieldy body. There is just this. Me. Even if that isn’t comparable to the minds like Nacho or Cassander or CC. But it is my kingdom and I am home.

*Pratchett – Weinrich and Boettcher

** Terry Pratchett – Thief of Time

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